that trust to him.
Sam brushed his mouth over hers and straightened, smiling. “I just have to figure out a way to keep your brothers from taking off my head when I ask for your hand. It’s not like a soldier has a lot of prospects. They might think I’m after you for your money.”
“They would be more understanding of that reason for such an offer-a business transaction. They will have far less ability to understand you wanting me as a wife for other reasons.”
Again he couldn’t detect bitterness or even a bid for sympathy; Azami was simply stating a fact as she saw it. “They’ll have to get used to it,” Sam said.
“We do not ever show affection in public,” Azami cautioned. “I don’t want you to be offended if I don’t show how I feel.”
His eyebrow rose. “Are you afraid I might grab you in front of the world and kiss you like crazy?”
She nodded solemnly. “It isn’t done.”
His grin went wider. “It’s done. We just have to pick our spots. We both have the ability to transport from one area to another. I think if I’m desperate, I’ll just give you the sign and we’ll exit fast and return before they notice we’re gone.”
Azami looked at him as if she didn’t quite know what to think. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, drawing her closer to him. He found that bemused, confused look adorable, but he was fairly certain a warrior woman wouldn’t find that description appealing, so he wisely kissed her instead of commenting out loud.
She gave herself up to his kiss, her tongue dancing with his, her slender arms creeping up around his neck.
He might not be able to have her physically, not yet. Instinctively he knew she wasn’t ready to give him her body. The intimacy of telepathic communication would have to be enough. He prayed it would be enough and give him the strength to do right by her.
There was a moment of hesitation and his heart went still. His mouth moved coaxingly against hers, a gentle, tender assault to entice her. Her mind opened and warmth poured into him. Her strength, the vulnerability she hid from the world. She filled all the cold, dark places in him, lighting him, illuminating the darker shadows and instantly removing every vestige of loneliness.
He knew that was her primary worry. When she entered into his mind, strong and courageous, that doubt was there as well. Azami didn’t try to hide it from him, nor did she pretend she felt comfortable with her body or with him seeing her flaws. To him they weren’t flaws, nor would they ever be.
She kissed him with exquisite gentleness until his heart stuttered and his body threatened to burst through the material of his jeans. She brushed the pads of her fingers so lightly over his skin, shaping his shoulders and the muscles of his arms. The touch was barely there, yet he felt it as if she was branded into his bones.
But she wanted him. She wanted to give herself to him and in a way, she already had. It was impossible to be in her mind and not know her. She had committed to him the moment she’d revealed her body to him. She’d allowed him to share her mind and memories. He hadn’t betrayed her trust by searching her mind for how she’d assassinated Whitney’s three flunkies, although she didn’t try to hide anything from him. He knew she was going after Whitney and how could he blame her?
Sam folded her closer.
He lifted his head slowly, waiting for her long lashes to lift. He loved those soft twin crescents, impossibly long and feathery, fluttering against her high cheekbones right before she opened her dark eyes to meet his gaze. He loved the sensation of his heart dropping the moment their gazes met and knew she would always affect him like this-just this way-his body so aware of her, his mind filled with her so there would never be room for anyone else.
She didn’t sound quite as positive as he would have liked. He nuzzled her nose, kissed both eyes and the corner of her mouth.
“Tell me, Azami,” he coaxed. “I don’t believe in secrets. My woman will know what’s happening in my life and I need to know about hers. I don’t want hurt feelings between us. If you have concerns, we need to address them.”
She lifted her chin. “I have a mission to accomplish. It’s a matter of honor. I can’t stop until it’s done. I’m not unrealistic. I’m aware I probably will not be the one to kill him, but I have made it my duty to cut him off from the aid that lends him legitimacy.”
“I understand, Azami. I do. I’m a soldier. In any case, if you’re trying to bring down Whitney, you’ve got allies right here. Four teams of GhostWalkers are dedicated to finding him and destroying him.”
“He’s got powerful friends,” she warned.
“Believe me, honey, we’re very aware of that.”
She suddenly smiled. “You call me by your American name. Honey. We do not use this term in my country. I like it, but it seems strange.”
“It’s a term of endearment meant for a girlfriend or spouse,” he explained.
She took a breath, stepped back, and spread her hands. “He called me Thorn. Whitney. He said I wasn’t a flower, but only a thorn and there was nothing he could do to change that, no matter how hard he tried.”
Another revelation. She was very still. Holding herself. Waiting. Sam took a breath, wanting to make certain he said the right thing. When they’d met, he’d asked her what her name meant. He smiled at her, taking one step to close the gap she’d put between them, his hand cupping her chin, forcing her head up.
His heart did a curious somersault looking into the courage in her eyes. He would always see her this way, his Azami, facing the worst, expecting the worst, yet not flinching, but looking him right in the eye. He was a man who lived a life of duty, choosing honor and danger, although he had many choices. He had degrees and offers, but he was driven to be a soldier, to defend his country and the people in it. He had never thought to find a woman who could understand him, or admire his choices. He could see both in her eyes.
“You are Azami, the very heart of the thistle. The flower of the thistle. Whitney has no place here, nor can he stand between us. He’s nothing to us, honey. Do you have any idea what we are together? What kind of strength we’ll have united? Whitney can never defeat us, or break us. He wanted to create pairs of soldiers to be dropped into enemy territory, carry out missions without aid from the outside, and escape unseen before anyone ever knew they were there. We’re that perfect pair and he never even saw it. He is
He knew she loved her family, but how could she ever feel she belonged, with her strange psychic gifts, her tortured past, scarred body, and white hair? Just as he never quite belonged anywhere until he became a GhostWalker.
“You belong with me, Azami. Your family will be my family. My family-the GhostWalkers-will be yours.”
“You’re a very dangerous man, Sam Johnson,” she whispered. “You stand there, tempting me with your pretty words of a future together, the devil in his blue jeans, so good-looking you’re impossible to resist. I don’t know why I can’t say no to you.”
His grin widened. His arms slid around her, pulling her tight against him. He didn’t want so much as a breath between them. “That will stand me in good stead in the future.” He bent his head once more to the temptation of her angelic mouth.
CHAPTER 9
